Butterfly Wisdom

And the problem with conscious metamorphosis

If, as humans, when it was time to morph into a new self, we could simply cocoon up, dissolve almost completely and trust in our spectacular DNA to resurrect us into a perfect new identity, the world would be a much different place.

For starters, anti-anxiety medication, plastic surgery and salty snacks would take a pretty big hit. Acts of rage, jealousy and hopelessness would be dramatically diminished.

And we’d be happier.

But this is not the case. At all.

I can personally do a fairly good job of step one and make it through about half of step two. I prefer living in a cocoon. The nonstop eating that precedes this stage I am also quite familiar with.

And theoretically I love the idea of shedding what doesn’t work. But more like a snake with old skin.

The idea of dissolving nearly completely is a lot trickier.

It requires you have faith in step three in order to make it all the way through step two.

Allowing one self to become essentially identity soup, save for a few organs like the guts and lungs, is, how to say, crazy.

We are programmed from early on to stay in control.

Stay focused on our schoolwork, on the requests of our parents and syncing with the complex unpredictable cues of their fluctuating emotions.

We must be aware and responsive of the vast interrelated system of social constructs, the finer nuances of when to fit in and when to stand out.

Control is paramount.

Control your grammar, your grief, your anger, your bowels. Your weight, your wrinkles, your destiny and doubt.

It is overwhelming.

So, the idea that anyone would voluntarily sign up to liquefy their sense of control for some completely unknowable, un-seeable, unimaginable ability to fly…?

Total insanity.

Unless you read the books of the brave souls who actually do this and thrive.

They talk about untethering their soul, following their North Star, feeling personal freedom and peace. That sounds kind of nice.

For butterflies this Pupa or transitional stage can last from a few weeks up to a couple years.

Whaaat? A couple years?

Okay great, so dissolve completely while managing a house, a job, two growing boys, two dogs, several houseplants, a possible move to a new state and lower back pain. That sounds totally reasonable.

The pupa has none of these responsibilities. And although it would be easy at this point to explain why humans, as an act of self-preservation, need not engage in this frightfully destructive, reductive stage, we must.

We think what we are doing is working.

But is it?

It’s not for me. I eat right, exercise regularly, breathe occasionally and seek strategies, tactics, philosophies and action plans to become a “better” version of me.

Sometimes tweaking is all that’s needed. But sometimes demolition is the better call. Retaining some crucial foundational elements and other than that starting over.

The caterpillar does not have to make this conscious choice.

There is no trust to muster.

No flux capacitor of faith to engage.

Somewhere inside itself, the caterpillar knows instinctually, that if it is to make the remarkable 3,000-mile journey from the northeastern U.S. and Canada to it’s ancestral wintering grounds in the volcanic mountains of central Mexico, it must change. Dramatically.

It does not know the exact journey, does not know it will need wings. Just knows radical change must happen to prepare for what lies ahead.